Today was "one of those days." I don't really even know what that means, but it's true. Practice was ok...everyone was in a pretty bad mood, but we ran alright. The weather was nice...Oh! highlight of day! I got my anthro midterm back and got a 49/50 and an "excellent" on what I thought was a pretty shoddy essay at the time! Yahoooo. I attempted to nap, as it is Wednesday, and that is nap day, but I was unsuccessful.
After that I got a migraine and had to go through Enviro History (in which I expounded upon the frivolities of the suburbs) and orchestra (oh my gosh). Then I tried to nap again and was allllmost asleep, when Marge came crashing into the room and flipped on the overhead fluorescent lights. She paused for 10 seconds before realizing I was on my bed, turned on a different light, and continued slamming around the room. In that moment, I decided I was definitely moving. I also confronted her as politely as possible about making my business everyone else's business and then promptly walked to dinner, which I wasn't even hungry for. Fortunately some friends were there to eat and bitch with, so that was excellent. And even more excellent was watching Charlie Brown and drinking hot chocolate with my fellow Halloween homework doers who don't party. Now I'm here, having just finished a response paper to the Mahabharata, an assignment I enjoyed far more than expected. So maybe it wasn't "one of those days" entirely. Bittersweetish?
But I promised a recap of yesterday. I practically don't even care anymore, so sorry if it's not very fulfilling after all the hype.
Basically I studied til 2 am, overslept and missed practice, woke up in a panic at 9:00, quickly finished outlining essay questions, dashed to the gym to ride the exercise bike for 25 minutes while frantically studying, didn't even have time to shower, ran back to the room and..*pause* Then I ran over to Dr. Darth Vader's office, but I saw her along the way being very much not in her office, so I waited for her. We had an hour long meeting, and I told her many things...many things that sound terrible to say but ended up being good because I've they've been smoldering for months and now might cause positive change. Turns out she likes me and thinks I'm smart, though I never got that vibe. Oh yes, and this is where the yellow armchair comes in, because she had one in her office that basically required an ejection lever to get out of. (I ended that sentence with a preposition, which I'm now paranoid about, even though I think it's a silly rule).
Then I took the midterm. I have 4 letters for you, Comparative Politics midterm, and 3 of them are asteriks. Use your imagination...
And the nest egg is my stress ball, that is indeed a "nest egg" given to me by my stock broker. And yes, I have a stock broker. Thank you, crazy grandpa who makes me go to Lake Jackson to check on my investments in dirty energy.
After the doom-ridden midterm, Hinduism class was CANCELLED, which was the most amazing news (though I'm sorry Dr. Young PhD Student with Dreamy Deep Voice was sick). So I went to Target and bought things. Things that cost more money than expected but were mostly necessary.
Thennnn I went to a Careers in Writing seminar, which was a very good thing. Other than the part where it made me even more conflicted about my major, it made me realize for the trillionth time (good job me for having instincts that I only kind of listen to) that I neeeeed to go into writing. There is a severe lack of fiction in my life. I need to read novels and I need to write creatively. They cited blogging and writing everyday as what a budding writer needs to do, so at least I'm doing something right. One lady has my ideal job of capturing Americana themes in documentarian writing, so that was cool to see as something someone actually does. The journalist guy said that you can still be a journalist, even having gone to a school without a program, and emphasized the importance of economics, so I'm doing that right too...But then I became very concerned that I'm not in the right classes next semester. I'm taking a huge variety of stuff, but I don't know if it's right. I really wish I could have an English class, but there's no room in my schedule. Perhaps I can change it or just start on it sophomore year. I really need it though, for my sanity. I keep telling myself to think about all of these things over Christmas, not now. I think that's what kept me awake in my first nap. Phooey.
After thaaat I went to the dorm Halloween party very briefly. My floor dressed as "schoolgirls," which made me want to puke on myself. Mostly I grabbed fistfuls of candy and danced a bit, then jetted off to my meeting for Power Shift. Somehow I managed to fulfill all of my commitments yesterday, which I'm quite amazed at.
That is all.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Bloodshot orange juice eyes and other body problems
I hate when I squirt oranges in my eyes, like I just did while peeling one. I'm pretty sure acid is bad for your eyeballs. Isn't that what we always learned in science class, don't get acid in your face? I made a 100 on my 8th grade science safety test, yes siree.
Is that how you spell it- siree?
The cold, unhumid weather as of late has dried my skin out so much that I can't shave my legs. Having been raised a swimmer, it doesn't bother me not to shave, but it's practically blasphemy not to in our hair-phobic society. Why are we so afraid of hair? Hairy girls are probably warmer and don't have to spend as much money on lotion.
I am so freaking tiredddddd. My hallmates decided to camp out, once again, right outside my door and talk, laugh, and play Regina Spektor at supersonic levels. I can't put my contacts in due to bloodshot eyes, I can barely read my bulldozer article (yeah, I didn't finish that last night...), and running 4x1200 repeats this morning made me feel like a lumbering giant. Good thing today is Wednesday and that means nap day.
Is that how you spell it- siree?
The cold, unhumid weather as of late has dried my skin out so much that I can't shave my legs. Having been raised a swimmer, it doesn't bother me not to shave, but it's practically blasphemy not to in our hair-phobic society. Why are we so afraid of hair? Hairy girls are probably warmer and don't have to spend as much money on lotion.
I am so freaking tiredddddd. My hallmates decided to camp out, once again, right outside my door and talk, laugh, and play Regina Spektor at supersonic levels. I can't put my contacts in due to bloodshot eyes, I can barely read my bulldozer article (yeah, I didn't finish that last night...), and running 4x1200 repeats this morning made me feel like a lumbering giant. Good thing today is Wednesday and that means nap day.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
I drowned my midterm sorrows in Cheetohs and M&Ms...I don't eat crap like that! I swear I must be a victim of those drugs they warn you to look out for in Halloween candy, because I'm wide awake, despite it being 12:09 and me being about halfway through studying. I think I've spent a cumulative 10 hours studying so far over the last few days...I'm desperate, what can I say.
I have unleashed a monster onto the blogosphere with this brain of mine, always thinking of things to post. Pinkgurugal is right, it's a serious addiction.
And thank you to Jacob, my rather exceptionally loyal reader, for dubbing my blog "better than Gray's Anatomy." While it is debatable to some, I am flattered.
The day gets juicier. Around noonish, as I sat at my computer checking my email, my RA enters the room. I greeted her, as I do all people who come in the room, with the usual, "She isn't here," (she being my roommate). For the first time pretty much ever, though, she sat down to talk to me. She went straight to the point.
"So Marge told me that you want a new, quieter room." I sputtered a bit, not quite sure what to think of this declaration of my intent that I never had any part in declaring. I replied that I hadn't really said that but that I wouldn't mind a quieter location. She immediately launched into an action plan of finding me a new room, possibly one even to myself. (Myself! Alone! Me! I could dance around in my underwear all day long!) Without me saying much of anything, it was determined that we needed to contact the dean of student thingers and that there was a potential empty room upstairs. I'm pretty sure she was just excited to have a rather RA-like thing to do.
Conflicted, I decided to take a little field trip upstairs, to the land of girliness I had never entered, to investigate the empty room situation. After a bit of creepy lurking and employing the help of a random passerby, I found said empty room. All I can say is that I want it I want it I want it!! On the end of the hall, 2 beds, a bathroom with a door, a window I can open, and blissful, beautiful silence. Apparently the other girls had commandeered the room as a living room of sorts, but I'm sure that can be worked out.
Feeling a bit better, I strolled outside and came across Runnergirl, a good friend. I began to tell her my story, when Partner in Crime (PIC) walked up and interjected that she'd already heard this story. Flabbergasted, I asked how on earth she knew. She proceeded to tell me that three people from my hall are in her class and were talking about it, deciding many things about my feelings for me. (I'm glad I didn't have to go to the trouble of deciding my own feelings, because that might have been stressful.) All in all, I'm just quite perplexed at how this entire scenario occurred without me ever really being involved.
As I said before, Mouthwestern is no myth.
On a somewhat better note, upon telling a friend about my travails, they proceeded to pray with me in the middle of the snack bar. I was a bit surprised, but it's always nice to know someone is looking out for you.
---
I rather enjoyed watching a budding romance from the back of orchestra today. A mysterious new fellow, Bass Guy (BG), and a certain string strumming blonde were all smiles and googley eyes. I kept smiling to myself- it was practically more than I could bear to watch, the way BG looked at her so lovingly. And they never knew that I had a sneakster eye on their whole affair. We shall see how this romance pans out...
I should be studying for my massive midterm. Too bad I have to go listen to the president of the school blabber about nothing for an hour...I wonder if he'll notice me making flashcards? This time tomorrow, my test will be doney done doneeeeeee.
P.S. I realize that I am saying some things on the internet that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but only a select few are privy to my thoughts, all but one of whom are far removed from the premises.
P.P.S. If anyone can tell me how to make my blog unugly, I would greatly appreciate it.
And thank you to Jacob, my rather exceptionally loyal reader, for dubbing my blog "better than Gray's Anatomy." While it is debatable to some, I am flattered.
The day gets juicier. Around noonish, as I sat at my computer checking my email, my RA enters the room. I greeted her, as I do all people who come in the room, with the usual, "She isn't here," (she being my roommate). For the first time pretty much ever, though, she sat down to talk to me. She went straight to the point.
"So Marge told me that you want a new, quieter room." I sputtered a bit, not quite sure what to think of this declaration of my intent that I never had any part in declaring. I replied that I hadn't really said that but that I wouldn't mind a quieter location. She immediately launched into an action plan of finding me a new room, possibly one even to myself. (Myself! Alone! Me! I could dance around in my underwear all day long!) Without me saying much of anything, it was determined that we needed to contact the dean of student thingers and that there was a potential empty room upstairs. I'm pretty sure she was just excited to have a rather RA-like thing to do.
Conflicted, I decided to take a little field trip upstairs, to the land of girliness I had never entered, to investigate the empty room situation. After a bit of creepy lurking and employing the help of a random passerby, I found said empty room. All I can say is that I want it I want it I want it!! On the end of the hall, 2 beds, a bathroom with a door, a window I can open, and blissful, beautiful silence. Apparently the other girls had commandeered the room as a living room of sorts, but I'm sure that can be worked out.
Feeling a bit better, I strolled outside and came across Runnergirl, a good friend. I began to tell her my story, when Partner in Crime (PIC) walked up and interjected that she'd already heard this story. Flabbergasted, I asked how on earth she knew. She proceeded to tell me that three people from my hall are in her class and were talking about it, deciding many things about my feelings for me. (I'm glad I didn't have to go to the trouble of deciding my own feelings, because that might have been stressful.) All in all, I'm just quite perplexed at how this entire scenario occurred without me ever really being involved.
As I said before, Mouthwestern is no myth.
On a somewhat better note, upon telling a friend about my travails, they proceeded to pray with me in the middle of the snack bar. I was a bit surprised, but it's always nice to know someone is looking out for you.
---
I rather enjoyed watching a budding romance from the back of orchestra today. A mysterious new fellow, Bass Guy (BG), and a certain string strumming blonde were all smiles and googley eyes. I kept smiling to myself- it was practically more than I could bear to watch, the way BG looked at her so lovingly. And they never knew that I had a sneakster eye on their whole affair. We shall see how this romance pans out...
I should be studying for my massive midterm. Too bad I have to go listen to the president of the school blabber about nothing for an hour...I wonder if he'll notice me making flashcards? This time tomorrow, my test will be doney done doneeeeeee.
P.S. I realize that I am saying some things on the internet that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but only a select few are privy to my thoughts, all but one of whom are far removed from the premises.
P.P.S. If anyone can tell me how to make my blog unugly, I would greatly appreciate it.
You know you go to SU when...
...there are more Hispanic people, and certainly more white people, in ASIA club than Asian people.
Also...when people tell you that they heard via Tri Delts that you are dating someone and then proceed to tell you that if you keep your business personal, people will consider you shady.
Welcome to Mouthwestern.
---
Last night at about 12:30, my lovely roommate decided it was the time to bring up how she thought I should maybe move out next semester. Now before this sounds too bad, she means it for my sake, not because we don't get along, because we do. But our sleeping hours and lifestyles in general are completely opposite, and I've gotten very little sleep with the amount of noise that continues until 3:00 or 4:00 every morning. She said she feels bad that I should have to sleep on someone's futon the night before my conference meet so that I would get sleep, and that I have to go in the hall on a nightly basis to (futilely) ask them to be quiet. The RAs don't particularly seem to be doing anything about it either.
The story goes that a girl down the hall, whom we'll call Laverne, just for kicks, came to my roommate, (alias Marge), complaining that she and her roommate, Delilah, are not at all vibing in their schedules, or personalities for that matter. Laverne and Delilah don't really even talk to each other...Laverne is a wee bit on the (euphemism alert) serious side and prefers Gray's Anatomy to homework by far, while Delilah is an intentional social outcast English major. Delilah and I get along fine, though at times I find her to be a bit much. However, I, like her, do prefer Mr. Darcy to McDreamy. She also does happen to own a bicycle, which is more than I can say for anyone else on my floor. She's not even there half the time, especially now that she has a new boyfriend, who I believe is named Cake.
But I like my room! It's bigger and arranged just how I like it. I have my bed situated in a perfect little cave and just got all of my posters up. I don't think there's anywhere to put my bike in Laverne and Delilah's room (though there isn't really in here, as I crash into it 3544 times a day). Their bathroom situation is better, though...there's doors instead of curtains and a shower with a head that doesn't fall down and soak the floor. But...the room is right by the entrance to the hallway and the building! How is that going to be any better than the middle of the hallway where I am now?
Recap:
Pros:
1. Potentially, possibly, maybe quieter
2. Roommate who sleeps normal person hours
3. Roommate who is usually with boyfriend named Cake
4. Bathroom with door
5. Roommate has doormat with gnome on it
Cons:
1. Potentially not quieter
2. Have to move stuff
3. Smaller room with inferior furniture arrangement options (+ my bike may have no home!)
4. Awkward roommate
Help?
Also...when people tell you that they heard via Tri Delts that you are dating someone and then proceed to tell you that if you keep your business personal, people will consider you shady.
Welcome to Mouthwestern.
---
Last night at about 12:30, my lovely roommate decided it was the time to bring up how she thought I should maybe move out next semester. Now before this sounds too bad, she means it for my sake, not because we don't get along, because we do. But our sleeping hours and lifestyles in general are completely opposite, and I've gotten very little sleep with the amount of noise that continues until 3:00 or 4:00 every morning. She said she feels bad that I should have to sleep on someone's futon the night before my conference meet so that I would get sleep, and that I have to go in the hall on a nightly basis to (futilely) ask them to be quiet. The RAs don't particularly seem to be doing anything about it either.
The story goes that a girl down the hall, whom we'll call Laverne, just for kicks, came to my roommate, (alias Marge), complaining that she and her roommate, Delilah, are not at all vibing in their schedules, or personalities for that matter. Laverne and Delilah don't really even talk to each other...Laverne is a wee bit on the (euphemism alert) serious side and prefers Gray's Anatomy to homework by far, while Delilah is an intentional social outcast English major. Delilah and I get along fine, though at times I find her to be a bit much. However, I, like her, do prefer Mr. Darcy to McDreamy. She also does happen to own a bicycle, which is more than I can say for anyone else on my floor. She's not even there half the time, especially now that she has a new boyfriend, who I believe is named Cake.
But I like my room! It's bigger and arranged just how I like it. I have my bed situated in a perfect little cave and just got all of my posters up. I don't think there's anywhere to put my bike in Laverne and Delilah's room (though there isn't really in here, as I crash into it 3544 times a day). Their bathroom situation is better, though...there's doors instead of curtains and a shower with a head that doesn't fall down and soak the floor. But...the room is right by the entrance to the hallway and the building! How is that going to be any better than the middle of the hallway where I am now?
Recap:
Pros:
1. Potentially, possibly, maybe quieter
2. Roommate who sleeps normal person hours
3. Roommate who is usually with boyfriend named Cake
4. Bathroom with door
5. Roommate has doormat with gnome on it
Cons:
1. Potentially not quieter
2. Have to move stuff
3. Smaller room with inferior furniture arrangement options (+ my bike may have no home!)
4. Awkward roommate
Help?
Sunday, October 28, 2007
C'est Celine je t'aime
I have had an inexplicable love for Celine Dion since I was 9 years old, and I'm pretty sure one of the coolest presents ever would be to get to see her Vegas show. I wouldn't even need a hotel! I'd just stay with my family. I just need a plane ticket and a show ticket. Must also remember to tell this to future husband whose last name starts with M, E, F, G, S, or T...
I'd also like to remind myself that, thanks to inspiration from my Environmental History homework, I need to get a pink flamingo.
I'd also like to remind myself that, thanks to inspiration from my Environmental History homework, I need to get a pink flamingo.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Passionate Things
In response to my loyal and supportive readers (all 2 of you):
I do love English, a whole lot in fact. It's always been good to me too. I've probably spent more hours reading, and certainly more hours speaking, than I have sleeping, and I like almost nothing more than a good exchange of witty repartee. On a somewhat selfish and potentially conceited note [but hey, it's my own blog, right? where else do I put my thoughts] I've always measured whether I was putting my full efforts into school by if my English grade was the best in my class. I am a grammar freak extraordinaire. I was president of English Honor Society and head editor of literary magazine. I made a perfect score on the SAT verbal and the highest score category on the AP. I won the WordMasters national medal in 5th grade and won my school spelling bee the same year. I received the freshman, junior, and senior English department awards. I've published articles. Words and the art of molding them just comes naturally to me.
Everything would point to me majoring in English, right? Practically what I was born to do? Just like I always said I was going to do?
But for some reason, it doesn't feel right. Something tells me I need to be in the social sciences (another passion that has proved rather fruitful), as if it's time to take my proficiency and love for language to another level and apply it to the world's problems (a tall order of course, but I have nothing but the highest aspirations and an arsenal of tenacity). That is the standard I hold my career to: its capacity to help the world. Granted, English can of course, very obviously, be applied in that way too. But I just want to understand the forces of the world- the workings of the political, the economic, and the social, what's going wrong and direction toward solutions. I want the power of my words, something I have a natural affinity and capacity for, along with world class instruction in, to be applied to people and solutions.
(Despite all of that, writing does need to be involved somehow. I have a physical reaction to writing things that I feel passionate about, as evidenced by my response to the above paragraph. Speaking certainly does it too. I start shaking and can barely sit in my seat when seized by that excitement.)
-----
My heart is pretty full with satisfaction right now.
The conference cross country meet was this morning, on home turf. The day started off a complete jumble, as my uniform never arrived here, I put my chips on the wrong shoes, forgot my sunglasses, and had the sloshy mcslosh stomach again. BUT- I knew from all of that that I would have a great race. Warmup was freezing cold and the hill was still terrifying. However...while I was sitting on the tarp, fixing my shoe mixup and listening to my Kanye pump up, I got really excited. Even at the starting line, staring up at the monster before me, I just wanted to hear that bang and dig my spikes into the dirt. We were in box 4, which meant a straight shot down the middle (i.e. fantastic). I took off at a far too fast pace, staying on the pack leaders' heels. I barely noticed the hill the first time, just blasted up it. Mile 1 split...and I can think nothing but "holy shit" and knew I had to slow down. Dropped back a little, but no worries, all strategy. The 3rd mile was a killer, with round 2 on the hill. Worked really hard to pass a few girls and rally the troops with some positive talk (my secret recipe to success..cheering on the opponent). I hit a huge wall at the top of the last hill, legs shaking, lungs closing, stomach grinding, head swimming. Had to have a little chat with "the thing inside" (as Coach so eloquently put it) to keep moving. The last 200 yards were straight downhill, and I knew I had to push on, despite how badly my body was rejecting the idea. Unfortuately, the girls I'd worked so hard to pass had more than I did at the end, but I still finished the absolute hardest that I could. Crossing the finish line, I burst into tears and stumbled sideways off the course, not able to speak for a good 5 minutes. My lungs felt like someone had crawled inside and started punching them.
It was not at all in vain. I PRed by over a minute, guaranteeing my ticket to Virginia. I have no idea how I managed to find that inside of me. We all did, in fact. Every girl on the team PRed, half by at least a minute. We still only got 5th in conference, but that is a respectable and traditional finish for us.
I'm really glad my family was up here to see that race. They've been there for every race of my pre-college life, and I know it kills them to not get to see all of them now. They even got to meet the boy. (My grandpa LOVES him, which is no surprise.) We all ate at Monument Cafe for lunch (chocolate/pecan pie mmmmmmm). It was pretty hard to say good bye to my sister, because we really need each other right now. I know she's going through a lot. I'm glad she at least got to spend the night with me and get away. She even skipped her homecoming game to come. College makes me realize how much my family is a part of me, how I don't make sense out of context. I can't wait for Thanksgiving!
The joy of endorphins and family.
----
I'd like to marry someone whose last name starts with an M, an E, a P, an F, a G, an S, a T, or a Z. Combinations of U and those letters or UM (first/middle) and those letters makes for some fun.
I do love English, a whole lot in fact. It's always been good to me too. I've probably spent more hours reading, and certainly more hours speaking, than I have sleeping, and I like almost nothing more than a good exchange of witty repartee. On a somewhat selfish and potentially conceited note [but hey, it's my own blog, right? where else do I put my thoughts] I've always measured whether I was putting my full efforts into school by if my English grade was the best in my class. I am a grammar freak extraordinaire. I was president of English Honor Society and head editor of literary magazine. I made a perfect score on the SAT verbal and the highest score category on the AP. I won the WordMasters national medal in 5th grade and won my school spelling bee the same year. I received the freshman, junior, and senior English department awards. I've published articles. Words and the art of molding them just comes naturally to me.
Everything would point to me majoring in English, right? Practically what I was born to do? Just like I always said I was going to do?
But for some reason, it doesn't feel right. Something tells me I need to be in the social sciences (another passion that has proved rather fruitful), as if it's time to take my proficiency and love for language to another level and apply it to the world's problems (a tall order of course, but I have nothing but the highest aspirations and an arsenal of tenacity). That is the standard I hold my career to: its capacity to help the world. Granted, English can of course, very obviously, be applied in that way too. But I just want to understand the forces of the world- the workings of the political, the economic, and the social, what's going wrong and direction toward solutions. I want the power of my words, something I have a natural affinity and capacity for, along with world class instruction in, to be applied to people and solutions.
(Despite all of that, writing does need to be involved somehow. I have a physical reaction to writing things that I feel passionate about, as evidenced by my response to the above paragraph. Speaking certainly does it too. I start shaking and can barely sit in my seat when seized by that excitement.)
-----
My heart is pretty full with satisfaction right now.
The conference cross country meet was this morning, on home turf. The day started off a complete jumble, as my uniform never arrived here, I put my chips on the wrong shoes, forgot my sunglasses, and had the sloshy mcslosh stomach again. BUT- I knew from all of that that I would have a great race. Warmup was freezing cold and the hill was still terrifying. However...while I was sitting on the tarp, fixing my shoe mixup and listening to my Kanye pump up, I got really excited. Even at the starting line, staring up at the monster before me, I just wanted to hear that bang and dig my spikes into the dirt. We were in box 4, which meant a straight shot down the middle (i.e. fantastic). I took off at a far too fast pace, staying on the pack leaders' heels. I barely noticed the hill the first time, just blasted up it. Mile 1 split...and I can think nothing but "holy shit" and knew I had to slow down. Dropped back a little, but no worries, all strategy. The 3rd mile was a killer, with round 2 on the hill. Worked really hard to pass a few girls and rally the troops with some positive talk (my secret recipe to success..cheering on the opponent). I hit a huge wall at the top of the last hill, legs shaking, lungs closing, stomach grinding, head swimming. Had to have a little chat with "the thing inside" (as Coach so eloquently put it) to keep moving. The last 200 yards were straight downhill, and I knew I had to push on, despite how badly my body was rejecting the idea. Unfortuately, the girls I'd worked so hard to pass had more than I did at the end, but I still finished the absolute hardest that I could. Crossing the finish line, I burst into tears and stumbled sideways off the course, not able to speak for a good 5 minutes. My lungs felt like someone had crawled inside and started punching them.
It was not at all in vain. I PRed by over a minute, guaranteeing my ticket to Virginia. I have no idea how I managed to find that inside of me. We all did, in fact. Every girl on the team PRed, half by at least a minute. We still only got 5th in conference, but that is a respectable and traditional finish for us.
I'm really glad my family was up here to see that race. They've been there for every race of my pre-college life, and I know it kills them to not get to see all of them now. They even got to meet the boy. (My grandpa LOVES him, which is no surprise.) We all ate at Monument Cafe for lunch (chocolate/pecan pie mmmmmmm). It was pretty hard to say good bye to my sister, because we really need each other right now. I know she's going through a lot. I'm glad she at least got to spend the night with me and get away. She even skipped her homecoming game to come. College makes me realize how much my family is a part of me, how I don't make sense out of context. I can't wait for Thanksgiving!
The joy of endorphins and family.
----
I'd like to marry someone whose last name starts with an M, an E, a P, an F, a G, an S, a T, or a Z. Combinations of U and those letters or UM (first/middle) and those letters makes for some fun.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Chillin with my homeboy Buddha
Yet another impromptu meeting with my adviser today made me realize that I have managed to eliminate the word "stress" from my vocabulary, consciously but not entirely purposely. In keeping with my theme of remolding my persona, I have abstained from saying things like, "Omg, I am so stressed out" or "I'm completely freaking out right now," because I don't want people to see me as the super stressed girl, like everyone in high school did. Every time I wanted to say it, I'd pause and rephrase my thought, and time by time, abstention by abstention, it worked. What's more is that now that I don't acknowledge being stressed, I don't internalize it. I've had a few times when my body had to actually tell me I was stressed by doing crazy things like my mouth swelling up (but that was also in conjunction with an allergy attack, so that's a sort of dicey example).
I'm creating my own reality. Buddha would be proud.
I'm creating my own reality. Buddha would be proud.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Hi, my name is Ursula, and I'm an Afghani accountant
I find it very amusing that my user profile defaults that I am an accountant from Afghanistan, and I don't think I'll bother changing it either.
So I figured out the major for me, if only it existed: Social, Political, Economic, and Environmental Organization and Change and How to Write About it in a Highly Effective Way. The thing is that I don't want one of those things more than any other-- I don't want to focus just on environmental things or political things or economic things, etc. and my beloved SU does not offer any kind of journalism (but I don't think I could focus on just that either!) I have til 1:00 pm tomorrow to figure out next semester at least...
---
5:00 update
In light of having spent the entire day feeling like I was going to hurl and running on nothing but 2 pieces of bread for lunch, and also having been kind of a crabapple, here is a list of things that are good:
1. The weather is my absolute favorite in the entire world-- clear, blue sky and a cool, comfortable breeze. (And I got the windows open finally!)
2. The new Fine Arts Building (known to be the once and future home of a phylum of creatures known as "fabbies," who rarely emerge from their haven and who speak only in esoteric tongues to each other) is almost finished! I can tell this because of the 2 rather anorexic shrubs that are sitting in pots, waiting to be planted, next to the dwindling construction zone. The day that the FAB is complete will be a lovely day, because I will only have to lug my violin case 100 yards instead of a quarter mile.
3. On a continuing violin tangent (can you tell I just practiced??), I checked my string tuning today with an electronic tuner, and all of my strings were spot-on perfectly in tune. I'm pretty sure that's skillz right there.
4. Our $4 Elvis/Dia de los Muertos skull is coming in handy for our hallway decorating contest. It's currently in the wall with a stuffed mouse in its eye socket, next to a skeleton in a wifebeater.
5. Tomorrow is Friday, and my family is coming!
So I figured out the major for me, if only it existed: Social, Political, Economic, and Environmental Organization and Change and How to Write About it in a Highly Effective Way. The thing is that I don't want one of those things more than any other-- I don't want to focus just on environmental things or political things or economic things, etc. and my beloved SU does not offer any kind of journalism (but I don't think I could focus on just that either!) I have til 1:00 pm tomorrow to figure out next semester at least...
---
5:00 update
In light of having spent the entire day feeling like I was going to hurl and running on nothing but 2 pieces of bread for lunch, and also having been kind of a crabapple, here is a list of things that are good:
1. The weather is my absolute favorite in the entire world-- clear, blue sky and a cool, comfortable breeze. (And I got the windows open finally!)
2. The new Fine Arts Building (known to be the once and future home of a phylum of creatures known as "fabbies," who rarely emerge from their haven and who speak only in esoteric tongues to each other) is almost finished! I can tell this because of the 2 rather anorexic shrubs that are sitting in pots, waiting to be planted, next to the dwindling construction zone. The day that the FAB is complete will be a lovely day, because I will only have to lug my violin case 100 yards instead of a quarter mile.
3. On a continuing violin tangent (can you tell I just practiced??), I checked my string tuning today with an electronic tuner, and all of my strings were spot-on perfectly in tune. I'm pretty sure that's skillz right there.
4. Our $4 Elvis/Dia de los Muertos skull is coming in handy for our hallway decorating contest. It's currently in the wall with a stuffed mouse in its eye socket, next to a skeleton in a wifebeater.
5. Tomorrow is Friday, and my family is coming!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Oh, Wednesday.
Apparently there is a lot to me that I never knew...
I was told today that:
1. I very often have a euphoric aura of excessive excitement and happiness
2. I talk way too fast (which made me realize that I forget to breathe a lot)
3. I am a badass?
4. I guess I'm pretty infamously overscheduled...Trevor: "And why would I hang out on campus? You probably have to go run, then have choir practice, save the spotted tree frog, and do 10 hours of homework." Touchee.
It's really funny how coming to college has been a chance to see how people who haven't known me forever see me. I just take for granted how my high school friends see me. These people here don't know what I was like 4 years ago or even this summer. It's pretty surprising and sometimes funny to hear their evaluations of me, especially when we have the "you aren't what I thought you were at first" conversations.
What's even weirder is that people see me in such cool ways. Somehow I've managed to come off as this person I've always wanted to be in a lot of ways (minus 2 and 4 from above). It's amazing how I've changed over the last few years and especially how I apparently don't come off the way I see myself. People see me as super happy? Badass? Someone else called me trendy (though my adviser said the exact opposite). Someone even called me passive and chill a few months ago(?!?)
On another note...
I like the weather, but I don't like being cold.
Power Shift in 1 WEEK. I am so petrified and bewildered but excited. That's just how lifechanging things seem to go.
I wish my brain would shut up and stop going in 50 directions and just focus on the midterm that is slowly devouring my soul. I wish I could just have a magical genie tell me what to major in, make my class schedule for me, pay for my plane ticket, take my test, and clean my room.
But seriously, what on earth am I supposed to major in? I don't like any of them, but I don't want the stress of creating my own. (Thank God I go to a school that tailors things just to me, though, and an adviser who gives me personal attention.) I don't want to be a Soc major and have to be a social worker or a Psych major and have to be a psychologist. I don't like political theory or I'd do Poli Sci, which would seem conducive to what I want to do. Anthropology doesn't have classes I want. Business requires calculus and selling your soul. I'm actually thinking about minoring in Economics, which means taking a few really crappy classes up front but some good ones later, and it's pretty useful in just about everything. It seems early to pick a major, but I'm going to be a sophomore in this upcoming spring semester, and I'm supposed to have a 4 year plan. I don't even know what I want to wear tomorrow, much less what to do with the rest of my life...
On a closing note, I just heard someone say, "the Jew that stole Christmas!" in describing my suitemate and found that rather amusing.
I was told today that:
1. I very often have a euphoric aura of excessive excitement and happiness
2. I talk way too fast (which made me realize that I forget to breathe a lot)
3. I am a badass?
4. I guess I'm pretty infamously overscheduled...Trevor: "And why would I hang out on campus? You probably have to go run, then have choir practice, save the spotted tree frog, and do 10 hours of homework." Touchee.
It's really funny how coming to college has been a chance to see how people who haven't known me forever see me. I just take for granted how my high school friends see me. These people here don't know what I was like 4 years ago or even this summer. It's pretty surprising and sometimes funny to hear their evaluations of me, especially when we have the "you aren't what I thought you were at first" conversations.
What's even weirder is that people see me in such cool ways. Somehow I've managed to come off as this person I've always wanted to be in a lot of ways (minus 2 and 4 from above). It's amazing how I've changed over the last few years and especially how I apparently don't come off the way I see myself. People see me as super happy? Badass? Someone else called me trendy (though my adviser said the exact opposite). Someone even called me passive and chill a few months ago(?!?)
On another note...
I like the weather, but I don't like being cold.
Power Shift in 1 WEEK. I am so petrified and bewildered but excited. That's just how lifechanging things seem to go.
I wish my brain would shut up and stop going in 50 directions and just focus on the midterm that is slowly devouring my soul. I wish I could just have a magical genie tell me what to major in, make my class schedule for me, pay for my plane ticket, take my test, and clean my room.
But seriously, what on earth am I supposed to major in? I don't like any of them, but I don't want the stress of creating my own. (Thank God I go to a school that tailors things just to me, though, and an adviser who gives me personal attention.) I don't want to be a Soc major and have to be a social worker or a Psych major and have to be a psychologist. I don't like political theory or I'd do Poli Sci, which would seem conducive to what I want to do. Anthropology doesn't have classes I want. Business requires calculus and selling your soul. I'm actually thinking about minoring in Economics, which means taking a few really crappy classes up front but some good ones later, and it's pretty useful in just about everything. It seems early to pick a major, but I'm going to be a sophomore in this upcoming spring semester, and I'm supposed to have a 4 year plan. I don't even know what I want to wear tomorrow, much less what to do with the rest of my life...
On a closing note, I just heard someone say, "the Jew that stole Christmas!" in describing my suitemate and found that rather amusing.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Mother Moon
An added note to my stories tangent:
My mom just reminded me tonight of a story she used to tell me when I was little, and I am positively astounded at how beautiful the little myth is that she created. I can't remember all of it, just an abridged version, but I think the profundity is still there...
"There once was a little girl who lived in a world where there were so many things that she did not understand. She could not see the answers but wanted desperately to fix everything. One day, she cried up to her mother, Mother Moon, "Oh, Mother, I want to be able to understand, to see the answers to all of the problems around me. Please help me to see what to do!" Mother Moon replied, "Daughter, I will help you to see" and she reached up into the sky, plucking two blue, twinkling stars from the heavens, and placed them into her daughter's eyes. "Here, my daughter, may these stars allow you to see what it is you strive to find. Always remember to look up to me in the sky whenever you need me. Remember that you are always safe with me." The little girl cried, "Oh thank you, Mother Moon!" and she felt safe and happy. The girl used her newfound sight to remedy those problems she saw around her, and everyone marveled at the girl's beautiful, twinkling blue eyes that saw so much. And the girl never forgot to look up toward the night sky, to feel the comfort of her mother's warm glow and to see the others stars, watching from their perch, shining in the sky."
I'm pretty sure my mom is brilliant.
And also the reason why I've been obsessed with stories since I was 2 years old.
This story actually explains a lot about me, but that's for another time.
My mom just reminded me tonight of a story she used to tell me when I was little, and I am positively astounded at how beautiful the little myth is that she created. I can't remember all of it, just an abridged version, but I think the profundity is still there...
"There once was a little girl who lived in a world where there were so many things that she did not understand. She could not see the answers but wanted desperately to fix everything. One day, she cried up to her mother, Mother Moon, "Oh, Mother, I want to be able to understand, to see the answers to all of the problems around me. Please help me to see what to do!" Mother Moon replied, "Daughter, I will help you to see" and she reached up into the sky, plucking two blue, twinkling stars from the heavens, and placed them into her daughter's eyes. "Here, my daughter, may these stars allow you to see what it is you strive to find. Always remember to look up to me in the sky whenever you need me. Remember that you are always safe with me." The little girl cried, "Oh thank you, Mother Moon!" and she felt safe and happy. The girl used her newfound sight to remedy those problems she saw around her, and everyone marveled at the girl's beautiful, twinkling blue eyes that saw so much. And the girl never forgot to look up toward the night sky, to feel the comfort of her mother's warm glow and to see the others stars, watching from their perch, shining in the sky."
I'm pretty sure my mom is brilliant.
And also the reason why I've been obsessed with stories since I was 2 years old.
This story actually explains a lot about me, but that's for another time.
Triumphant return
And so I return to the blogging world.
There was once a time when I wrote somewhat interesting things on a regular basis, but I got caught up in things- the usual excuse- and it pretty much just stopped. But now, thanks to a desire to procrastinate in reading about the connection between war, insect annihilation, and environmental destruction, plus a day packed with nonstop things to do of the non-homework variety, plus a little prodding from my crazy mother, I am blogging when I should be doing so many other things.
For starters...
I learned another something about myself today, and it is that I am easily inspired. Listening to Amy Tan speak tonight, I was so full of excitement and ideas and was completely riveted...and then she did this thing at the end where she played wistful Chinese erhu music and read a poetic passage from her book...and I was about to fall out of my seat for the feeling of sheer joy it made me feel. Yes, I am a corny person, but I know that that easy inspiration is what makes me able to write anything worthwhile. (It's cliche-- noticing the small stuff-- but cliches are cliche for a reason, right?)
Anyway, so I was inspired, but I also realized that there is a severe lack of fiction in my life right now. I was in an English class every school day for 12 years, and now I am in none. All of my homework is cut and dry definitions of democracy or extremely pedantic religious philosophy. Granted, there are some lively nonfiction narratives thrown into anthro, but they're few and far between and it's not quite the same as a book straight from someone's land of pretend.
I don't know what I'm going to do with this feeling exactly. Being a freshman, every time I go anywhere and get this inspiration, I'm so sure it signifies a new career path. One thing I can say for this is that I've wanted to be an author basically since I was born, not that I plan on making that my life's goal. It's somehting I'd rather have just happen if and when it's meant to.
Actually what it has also made me feel is angry at myself for not writing down every interesting thing that's ever happened to me, so that I can have that as an arsenal for further literary inspiration later on. I journaled for 6 solid months of this year, following through on a New Year's Resolution, but I lost 3 months' worth with the tragic demise of my computer 2 weeks ago, and I stopped writing in June because I just got too lazy. I'm always too tired or too busy or too whatever.
I just like stories. A lot. Hearing them, reading them, seeing them, feeling them, telling them, and making them.
There was once a time when I wrote somewhat interesting things on a regular basis, but I got caught up in things- the usual excuse- and it pretty much just stopped. But now, thanks to a desire to procrastinate in reading about the connection between war, insect annihilation, and environmental destruction, plus a day packed with nonstop things to do of the non-homework variety, plus a little prodding from my crazy mother, I am blogging when I should be doing so many other things.
For starters...
I learned another something about myself today, and it is that I am easily inspired. Listening to Amy Tan speak tonight, I was so full of excitement and ideas and was completely riveted...and then she did this thing at the end where she played wistful Chinese erhu music and read a poetic passage from her book...and I was about to fall out of my seat for the feeling of sheer joy it made me feel. Yes, I am a corny person, but I know that that easy inspiration is what makes me able to write anything worthwhile. (It's cliche-- noticing the small stuff-- but cliches are cliche for a reason, right?)
Anyway, so I was inspired, but I also realized that there is a severe lack of fiction in my life right now. I was in an English class every school day for 12 years, and now I am in none. All of my homework is cut and dry definitions of democracy or extremely pedantic religious philosophy. Granted, there are some lively nonfiction narratives thrown into anthro, but they're few and far between and it's not quite the same as a book straight from someone's land of pretend.
I don't know what I'm going to do with this feeling exactly. Being a freshman, every time I go anywhere and get this inspiration, I'm so sure it signifies a new career path. One thing I can say for this is that I've wanted to be an author basically since I was born, not that I plan on making that my life's goal. It's somehting I'd rather have just happen if and when it's meant to.
Actually what it has also made me feel is angry at myself for not writing down every interesting thing that's ever happened to me, so that I can have that as an arsenal for further literary inspiration later on. I journaled for 6 solid months of this year, following through on a New Year's Resolution, but I lost 3 months' worth with the tragic demise of my computer 2 weeks ago, and I stopped writing in June because I just got too lazy. I'm always too tired or too busy or too whatever.
I just like stories. A lot. Hearing them, reading them, seeing them, feeling them, telling them, and making them.
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